So I can Breathe
by Soundone
Summary: Hatred was so much easier to feel than to justify. Oboro needed both to kill Belka, but she could only find one.


_...two, three..._

There was no shock. Not even a twitch of muscle on the recipient's face when her murderous hands seized a pale throat.

 _...four, five..._

Cold, somber eyes did little more than stare at her, even as breath struggled to escape from a crushing grip. Those damned eyes looked so much like his. She snarled.

 _...six, seven..._

Her hands began to shake, not with anger, but with despair. Bitter tears stung at her eyes. She cursed every god with a name as fingers coiled like a python around its prey.

 _...eight..._

The body beneath her was so close to breaking, yet that face remained just as impassive. It spoke of nothing but acceptance. She wanted the dastard to suffer, cry for mercy, scorn her, anything to feed her rage, anything to make this feel justified.

 _...nine..._

Anything to stop the pain.

 _...te-..._

''DAMN YOU, BELKA!''

The Hoshidan soldier released her grip just shy of fatal. Belka gasped and buckled to the ground, barely able to reclaim her breath before her assailant collapsed upon her once again, only this time, at her mercy. Words did not accuse, nor arms comfort. Only her breath puffed into the night as the woman against her shrieked with the sorrow of a lifetime into a pounding chest.

''IT HURTS, GODS, IT HURTS!'' Oboro lamented as her tears stained the wyvern knight's shirt. The cool, evening air did little to put out the fire in her words. She cared not whose ears her pathetic cries reached. She cared not for anything Belka could have done to her in retaliation. She just wanted to scream until the grip upon her heart faded. ''GIVE THEM BACK! Give them back!''

''I can't.''

She let out a choked laugh between her sobs. It was said so firmly, so very like the woman. It was said like it was: a cold, hard fact, something that she had once accepted everyday since it happened. Then, why was it that she could never accept it whenever she looked at those chilling eyes?

Her body sagged into cold arms, her tears became nameless and lost upon the Nohrian's skin. She was so angry, yet so powerless, so wanting, yet so tired.

''You could have done something... I hate you, I hate you so much...''

''...I know.''

Pointed fingernails dug into the assassin's skin, but Oboro neither felt nor heard anything in protest. She let herself fade away, listening to the healthy beating of a heart belonging to the person closest to her parents' murderer. She failed them once more.

Eventually, she felt arms around her frame, her chest against a rocking back, and finally, night fully claim her as warm covers suppressed her regrets for another day. The pain failed to dull with sleep.

* * *

Tiny sparks jumped into the humid air as Oboro absently scraped the blade of her naginata with a whetstone. The poor weapon had been sharp enough to cut the wind for the better part of the afternoon, but the lancer was too preoccupied with her thoughts to notice as her arm mechanically brushed the stone up and down, eyes lost within the summer clouds.

Her shoulder unconsciously rolled against her neck as an ache from where Hinata had smacked her began to throb. Her partner had very earnestly hit her when Saizou told the samurai of what he saw transpire between her and Belka yesterday and she deservingly accepted it without a sound. If word ever got out that she had nearly murdered the beloved subordinate of Nohr's eldest princess, it could very well threaten the already fragile alliance between the two countries.

She never thought of herself as stupid or hot-blooded like some of the younger recruits, but as of late, whenever she locked eyes with the Nohrian, Oboro felt a disturbing mixture of rage and sorrow poison her body, filling her head with visions of her parents' death and the face of the man who caused it. That rage seemed to culminate last night after the knight held her gaze for a second too long.

The lancer hissed when the heated thought caused her to misalign the brush of her whetstone and let her finger run across the blade in its place. Sticky, red blood quickly oozed forth from the cut and down her finger, dripping down to the dust ground where it gathered in a familiar pool. She hastily returned her gaze towards the sky.

She wished she knew what was the cause of her burning hatred. When Belka first confessed the truth of her father's actions, as well as present her head to Oboro without a moment's hesitation, the lancer thought they could have been comrades, or at least tolerate each other's presence. It was almost tragic how quickly those fantasies were slain as umber eyes began to birth an anger she had never know.

''...gods, I hate you, Nohrian.'' Her mind was restless. Oboro clumsily sealed her wound and tossed the naginata back into her tent before setting off to find the cause of her unrest. She needed to solve, or at the very least find an outlet for this anger before it did her focus anymore harm. It didn't take long to locate the wyvern knight, since Oboro was more than aware of the seclude corners of camp that Belka liked to train, away from prying eyes, save her own.

She watched with both anger and interest as the unmounted wyvern knight hacked and jabbed at a training dummy with her weapon, a completely steel, lance-like construct with a long, jutting blade on one side. She believed it was called a poleaxe. The Nohrian's usual platemail was replaced with loose leather armour, seemingly more for comfort than protection. As Oboro got close, she could see sweat rain down a tense brow and hardened arms swing the large weapon with expertise, sharp eyes unrelenting upon the target. Most of all, however, her eyes were drawn to the black and blue bruises that ran along the length of her neck like a plague, a blatant reminder of her ireful feelings towards the Nohrian.

''What do you want?''

The voice was crisp and strong after the lancer had watched long enough to feel her bones getting stiff, the assault upon the dummy not faltering in the slightest.

''I wish to watch you train. Is there a problem?'' the Hoshidan challenged with a glare. Belka's very voice made her senses snap like a feral dog at a bone.

The swinging died instantly. Oboro stiffened as taut muscles relaxed and those hollow eyes turned to meet her once again. They looked no different from yesterday, which infuriated the lancer much more than if they were filled with venom. She wanted to be hated with the same intensity that she hated Belka. Perhaps than she could make sense of her emotions.

''...It was quite hard to explain these marks to my lady.'' Teeth grit as she saw Belka run a hand down the terribly bruised expense of her neck. The stoic mask broke slightly when the Nohrian winced after grazing a particularly coloured spot. A small part of the lancer was ashamed that she felt no guilt at the unreasonable suffering she had put the woman through, though anger still commanded her tongue.

''I hope you weren't expecting an apology, _Nohrian_!'' Oboro's hissed the last word with particularly thick malice. Belka didn't even blink. ''What I did was a massage compared to what my parents went through!''

With the wyvern knight's silence, the two tensely stared at each other in silence, only the slightly heavier breathing from Belka's post-workout state reaching Oboro's ears. Just as she felt that her hands would once again reach for Belka's throat, the knight potentially saved her life by suddenly breaking eye contact and walking towards a weapon stand, before quickly returning with two wooden lances. The Hosidan's blood boiled when one of them thrown in her direction, only relaxing in the slightest when it clattered harmlessly on the ground in front of her.

''If you have time to watch me, then you have time to spar, Hos _hi_ dan.'' Putting an almost unnoticeable hiss to the last word, Belka retreated into the centre of the sparring circle, body in a Nohrian halberdier stance with the tip of her weapon trained forwards in challenge. ''Perhaps this will let you release your anger in a way that doesn't shame your parents' names.''

The moment those words tainted the air, Oboro saw red. The lancer let out a savage roar as the weapon at her feet practically jumped into her hands and dove into Belka's defences. The blow was deflected effortlessly to the side by a quick shifting of Belka's shaft. With her body hunched over, Oboro was ill prepared to deal with the crippling pain of a knee being rammed into her stomach, yelling out pitifully as Belka shoved her away with the butt of her weapon.

''Really, this is Hoshido's famous Holy Lancer? Countless of my countrymen fell to such predicable movements?'' Belka glared at her with a superiority, with a _pity_ , that made her tremble with pure anger. ''My father's actions live on through your weakness, Hoshidan.''

Her voice screeched with the howl of a kinless garou as the lancer surged forwards once again. Her arm moved faster than ever before, lance thundering down so hard against Belka's that it chipped off wood. Yet, no matter how many strikes she made, it got her no more closer to touching Belka's body, the Nohrian almost annoyed at the meagre resistance. Finally, Belka made her first real strike of the match, which also ended it. When Oboro's lance came down, Belka blocked and slid the length of her lance between the Hoshidan's arm and weapon. On one smooth motion, she twisted the lance from the lancer's grasp, pulled back, and struck forwards, landing squarely in Oboro's chest and sending her collapsing onto the ground in pain.

''...My win.''

Bewildered amber eyes stared at the lance pointed towards her before strangled sobs leaked out of the lancer's throat and her tears mingled with grass, fingernails into soil. She was so easily bested in combat by a wyvern knight without her wyvern and her anger was no more sated. She wanted to die, for Belka to continue her father's legacy and slay the last of her family line, if only so she wouldn't have to hear those heart-wrenching taunts again. She felt like trash.

Through her tear-stricken vision, she saw the victor toss her lance away and kneel in front of her. She couldn't see them, but Oboro was sure those haunting eyes were mocking her right now.

''I hate you... I hate you so much...sniff...''

''...I know.''

What happened next shocked her more than the blow to her stomach tenfold. Oboro felt a warmth belonging to comforting arms wrap around her and bring her head into the knight's chest. Wide eyes stretched as her body refused to accept it, weakly trashing.

''W-What... I will not accept your p-pity, Nohrian...!'' Her voice was shook more than an autumn leaf upon winter winds. ''H-How dare you...I...''

''I'm sorry for saying those insults...Oboro.'' The knight's voice sounded no different to Oboro's ears, yet the message they carried was something the lancer never imagined could be conveyed between them. ''You are too easily swayed by your emotions. Coming at someone on the battlefield with that much blind rage makes your movements very predictable and clouds your judgement. Change that, lest you die before you take my life.''

She felt the arms pull her away, silently cursing how much her body missed the contact, before she met Belka's sharp eyes once more. They seemed to glisten like gems at her angle. The fist to her face, however, did not as it crashed right into her cheekbone, making her scream at the sudden surge of pain left lingering.

''...That is for making lady Camilla worry.''

The rest of the Nohrian's message was conveyed through her simple, expecting stare. Oboro took the slightest of moments to feel her cheek, before her own fist smashed into Belka's face with twice the vigour. Her first two strikes collided unrestrained into the knight's face, yet the words from earlier, as well as Belka's commitment to her princess, made her arms falter. Their trajectory switched to the knight's stomach and shoulders, where wounds would be hidden from concerned eyes. Belka did nothing in retaliation, just as she hadn't last night, eyes cast downwards and unflinching as Oboro let out her rage into an already wounded body.

When she was finished, her knuckles had started to bleed, splashes of red staining the leather armour. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt some of the hatred leave her. Perhaps it was regret as she looked at the heaving, defenceless warrior before her, blood trickling from her mouth. Something fluttered inside her that made her want to scream. She bit her tongue so hard it bled as her arms unconsciously dipped to her pockets and produced a concoction, tossing it in front of Belka. She didn't even wait to see her reaction as she laid her back down to the grass.

There was a soft popping of a cork and the sound of lips around the bottle. Then the spot next to her rustled as Belka laid down adjacent, breathing surprisingly controlled and soft. The two soldiers began to silently watch the clouds together, almost like they were friends rather than two people who had just finished beating each other senseless. For the time being, cicadas replaced the exchange of heated words between the two. It was more than Oboro could have ever imagined when she woke up that morning.

''...Thank you for the medicine.''

The lancer pierced her palms and grit her teeth, punishing her body for allowing a blush to surface at those words. Belka's voice rang in the same way it always did, which agitated Oboro since she didn't feel the usual sting of anger when she normally heard the Nohrian's tone. She felt rather inferior in that she would likely never have the gall to say anything grateful to Belka, despite all that the knight had suffered at her hands. Instead, she answered with lunatic words of her own.

''What was your father like?''

The lancer's ears picked up the slightest rustling of grass that would have been lost to even a mouse's senses. Belka's muscles had stiffened in reaction to the sudden words.

''...Are you sure that is something you want to know?'' There was no offence hidden in those words, only a barely discernible worry.

''I asked you, didn't I?!'' Oboro caught herself too late to stop the heated rebuttal. She still bore too much anger to hold a normal conversation with the knight. Taking a breath, her amber eyes slowly turned to meet with Belka's umber. ''I just... tell me about the man who killed my parents, so I can rest their ghosts.''

Belka held that gaze for a while, longer than last night where Oboro had nearly strangled her to death. Yet, the lancer didn't feel the urge this time. Finally turning her eyes skyward, Belka's mouth started to move.

''He was a large man, a revenant knight. In fact, when I killed him, I stole his mount, which I ride today. He was a man that held onto a lot of anger, as well as regret, which made him distant and uncaring to people around him. Like I told you before, he showed little love towards me, only enough nurture so that I was well fed and well trained in killing.''

Oboro twitched as she saw what looked like the first real twinge of emotion pass inside those hollow eyes since they met. ''...Despite it, I still loved him, he who took me off the streets and gave me a life where I had none.''

The anger resurfaced instantly. ''What?! You killed him of your own will for a handful of gold! How can you say you loved him, or are Nohrians really the scum I believed you were?!''

Belka said nothing at the harsh words, only rehardening her eyes towards the sky. She paused for the briefest of moments. ''My father once told me something, a dictum which I still generally follow today. He told me that the assassin isn't responsible for a killing, the person who hired him is. The assassin is merely a tool, only a means to an end. I am no more responsible for killing someone under contract than my lance is.''

The Nohrian said the next chilling words with a voice more hollow than any she had ever heard. ''I didn't take my father's life, the rival who gave me the mark was. In sure that was what he would have wanted in the end, for his little killing machine to prove her worth.''

Oboro surged forwards, face right up to Belka's. She could practically see her heated breath sway strands of blue. ''How can you say that?! You are using nothing but excuses to cover up your greed and lack of conscious! If I gave you my life savings, would you go up to Camilla right now and slit her throat?!''

A similar twinge squeezed the knight's eyes as a thick and heated glare shot back, only to instantly deflate. Belka scowled and turned her head, unwilling to answer the question. Oboro watched as broad shoulders surged and twitched uncomfortable, muscles stagger and flex. She could pick up Belka's breaths pass slightly faster.

''...Despite what he told me, I think he would feel such doubts at times. On occasion, I would catch him sleeping on his desk, dry tears staining his cheeks... I told you that your parents was one of two times he had ever complained to me, correct?''

Oboro slowly nodded, despite Belka facing away from her. The Nohrian noticed nevertheless. ''...His only other mark that caused him regret was his first: his real daughter's.''

Belka could practically hear the rage coursing through the lancer's veins and quickly turned and hushed her with a finger, a deep melancholy vivid in her eyes. It was enough to hold Oboro's tongue.

''...One day, he came home blisteringly drunk. I could smell the ale on him before he opened the door. When I went into his room to check on him, he was crying into his covers like a child, eyes stained a pale red. Upon seeing me, he embraced me in his rough hands and brought me down to his bed where he cried into my hair. There, he confessed everything, how he and his daughter lost his wife in a bandit attack on their town. They were travelling with a group of survivors when the leader noticed the sickly girl was slowing their progress. The man had no hesitation in placing a meagre 20 gold in my father's hand and telling him to kill his own daughter, lest the entire group would suffer.''

Oboro watched with astonished eyes at the smallest twinkling of tears in the knight's eyes, promptly hidden when Belka turned away once more.

''...My father initially begged, but the man made clear how the girl was affecting their progress. After a night of deliberation, my father lost himself and killed his daughter in her sleep... his fingernails dug into my skin as he described to me what it was like to hear that tiny heartbeat weaken and eventually fade.''

Oboro was reminded of a similar situation all those years ago, where a tiny girl, drenched in her father's blood, bawled and hiccuped as she begged for her mother's heartbeat to strengthen. Belka's face had turned away once again, but Oboro wasn't sure if she wanted to see those eyes. She didn't know if she would strangle Belka or cry into her nape if she caught sight of them right now.

''After that, he slit the leader's throat before leaving the group, where he eventually ended up where he was when adopted me. He was a broken man by then. He felt that if he could be fiendish enough to murder his own daughter for a stranger, why should he have qualms with anyone else... and after telling me his story, he fell asleep with me in his arms, repeating the name 'Lillian'...kept mumbling how much my eyes looked like hers...''

Something was hidden in the Nohrian's voice that made Oboro dreadfully uncomfortable. It was a tremor, an emotional sigh that only one with a lifetime of sorrow could produce. Oboro knew it well, as she would hear the sound pass her lips every year on the anniversary of her parents' death. What made the Hoshidan so uneasy at the familiar noise was how much more human it made the Nohrian before her look, how much more like a daughter than a murderer, how much like Oboro. Her hate could not feel justified directed towards someone so like her, and no prospect terrified her more.

''It was the only time he ever held me and promptly denied anything regarding it the morning after.''

A shudder was barely audible in the heavy breath Belka let out. ''I'm not trying to make you pity him. He was a villain in every other sense of the word. I just wanted to show that nothing is ever black and white. Just because someone commits an atrocity, doesn't mean they don't have regrets, doesn't mean they can't learn... so no, I wouldn't kill my lady for all the gold in Hoshido.''

With that, the Nohrian suddenly got up and returned to her training, the combat dummy crumbling twice as fast under the poleaxe. Oboro felt as if she should have said something, berated her, but her body was numb. The man who murdered her parents was a scoundrel, but to Belka, he was a lost soul who saved her. She knelt there for a while, thoughts on the man and the unfaltering form before her. The emotion in the knight's face from earlier was once again frozen over by her mask. It was a mask that looked ominously like the man's, a mask that Oboro wondered when it had been last lifted. She wanted to see what was under there.

Her legs stood and turned before she knew it, suddenly unable to stomach the scene. Her feet took but three steps before she paused.

''...Thank you for telling me that...Belka.''

With that, the lancer ran hurriedly away, not sparing a single glance back.

Oboro missed the knight's poleaxe falter for but a second.

* * *

A great fist crushed the ground where she was standing but a moment ago, as rain pelted the sickly skin of the Faceless before the lancer. Oboro dashed forwards and sliced at the thick arm, putrid blood mingling with agonized screams in the air before her naginata struck dead in the centre of the creature's chest, felling it. The Hoshidan gave a proud scoff before moving on to her next foe.

The army was facing a large pack of Faceless today, trying to kill as many of the creatures as possible to dissuade further attacks on a nearby village. While it was a messy affair, Oboro, for one, welcomed the distraction as her rage-fuelled blade cut swift and true through beasts who deserved to taste it. Despite getting to understand the wyvern knight better, the two still failed to manage staying in the same room as the other for more than a moment before the tension would cause one of them to leave.

It was perplexing, really, since where Oboro had expected to be more tolerate of the woman after their talk, she instead felt an even greater hate arise in her whenever she saw the knight. To make matters worse, the Nohrian had started to give her cold stares from across the room, or a sneer when their eyes held for too long. Such things she should have understood in light of her past actions instead caused her anger to explode, wiping away any progress the two had made in the last few months.

'That damn fool! Who does she think she is?! To embrace me one day, only to bare her teeth the next!' Her thoughts were a heated jumble as she cleaved through a thinner Faceless. She had not physically assaulted Belka since that day, but ireful words would occasionally spill out in public. Every single time, Belka would hold her gaze with sharp eyes until the rant was finished, walking away without a word of her own.

'I hate her! I despise her!...Why-'

Her anger not only clouded her thoughts, but her vision. With her mind burning away, Oboro failed to register the strange blot swiftly consuming the horizon just right of her. Only when it too late to move that she saw a huge boulder hurling in her direction. The lancer panicked, naginata raised in a futile defence as her arms waited to be shattered...

Only to flitch at the thundering sound of a shockwave of magic crash and obliterate the rock seconds before it hit her, mere pebbles dotting the fabric of her sleeves. The joy of being saved quickly fell as she heard a familiar beating of wings reach her ears. She almost wished the rock had crushed her. It would have been a far kinder fate than being saved by the woman she despised.

Turning dark eyes behind her, Oboro saw Belka staring down on the lancer, mouth curled almost in disappointment as remnants of magic seeped out of her mage wyvern's maw. The two stood tense and unwavering before each other, until a warped, but well-known, screech commanded their attention.

'' _Everybody! Golems have appeared on a hill to the southeast!''_ their dragonic commander barked, silver wings flapping as a small platoon readied at the shapeshifter's back. _''I want foot soldiers paired up with mounted units. Destroy them before they harm the southern platoon. Move!''_

The soldiers snapped into action. Lady Aqua quickly leapt onto Kamui's back. Oboro's partner, Hinata, borrowed the pegasus knight, Tsubaki's, back. A redheaded woman faithfully hugged the back of lady Camilla's wyvern, leaving only...

Belka's eyes met her once more, suddenly feeling a sinking sensation in her stomach. While the brown, judgemental eyes looked no more inviting, a hand was firmly held out nonetheless. With but a moment's hesitation, Oboro took it, and Belka's swung the lancer to her back, Oboro forcing a hidden scowl into Belka's back as her arms wrapped tight around the knight's torso. Luckily, they had learned to put aside the worst of their confrontations during battle.

The four aerial units soared forwards with roars and whinnies, allowing Oboro to see the golems much clearer from the sky. There were four of them, massive stone abominations that sprung from the ground like mountains and rained boulders like living onager. Kamui dove for the golem closest to the platoon, leaving the other three for the rest. Upon the moment Kamui had started attack the first target, Oboro saw a hail of boulders rain upon the remaining squad from the beast's comrades. Both Camilla's and Belka's mounts screeched as white fire annihilated any of the projectiles near them while Tsubaki's pegasus was content to simply avoid them. After that, the distance between the two parties was none and steel met with stone. Oboro wasted no time in leaping off the wyvern at the first opportunity and ramming her blade into a golem as the others did the same.

The menacing constructs were a challenge to even her. Like trying to cut down a mountain, her blade struggled to piece the thick crust of the creature's skin and her body struggled to avoid the earth-shaking blows of its arms. Even a Luna or Breaking Sky flourish failed to do significant damage against the hell-forged defences.

''Oboro!'' She heard the wyvern knight call out to her, quickly followed by a wyvern's roar. Looking up, she saw the golem temporary distracted by blistering flames scorching the length of one side, flames that seemed to melt the creature's very skin...

The lancer got the message. She made a beeline for the splashes of molten white that decorated the golem's skin and struck. Her blade sunk much deeper than her previous efforts, rewarded with a low, echoing moan from the beast. A smirk plastered her face as she continued to move with the wyvern knight's attacks, blade dancing into ghostly flames and legs moving in rhythm with wingbeats. At their current rate, the creature would be dead in no-

A pained scream broke her concentration. Her fight was forgotten as her sight peeled down the valley, heart stopping when she saw Kamui's golem crushing a man in it's grip, his pretty face strained with agony.

''Prince Takumi!''

She believed to have heard Belka faintly call out for her, but the thought was swiftly lost to the rain as she ran over to a vantage point overlooking the southern platoon. She discarded her naginata and pulled her shinrai from its sheath, panicked incantations spilling out of her mouth and electricity jumping from her fingers.

''Strike!''

A bolt of raging thunder split the stormclouds above and struck the golem's head, its head bobbing in pain at the unexpected blow. She could do this. Even though her magic was nowhere near potent enough to fell a golem and Takumi would be long dead before she could say the incantations more than twice, she could-

'' _OBORO!_ ''

A rough hand swung her savagely round, away from Takumi and hard on her knee. Before her, Belka stared menacingly down, the usual passive features on the knight's face twisted in raw anger and disbelief, much more threatening than any Oboro had ever seen during their arguments.

''Idiot! Your lance is nothing at this range! Leave that one! We need your help with these three!''

''Unhand me, _Nohrian_!'' The lancer's hissed murderously as she sloppily rose, hand tight around her shinrai. ''My prince is in danger! You would do the same for Camilla!''

The grip on her shoulder threatened to draw blood, even through her pads. ''You've changed nothing! You are still a slave to your emotions, Oboro! If you could think for just one moment, you could tell that he has allies with him, and that yours are crumbling without you! Help me slay our gol-''

The wyvern knight became perfectly still as the bladed edge of the shinrai suddenly pressed at her throat, voice silenced mid-sentence. Oboro trembled between shaking breaths as her features snarled and fingers trembled around the hilt of her weapon. She did not like be woman-handled nor lectured by the knight in the slightest.

''I-I will _not_ hear combat advice f-from a _murderer_! D-Do...D-Do not t-touch me, N-Nohrian, o-or-''

The fist came out so fast, crashing into her forehead while another hand swiftly ripped the weapon from her grip. She saw glimpses of the most enraged woman she had ever seen, Belka's sharp eyes livid with fire as hardened fists collided with her face. Unlike when she assaulted Belka, Oboro struggled and screamed as the knight refused to relent, angry tears unrecognizable in the rain and fingernails streaking Belka's wrists with blood. When the knight was finished, the lancer's eyes grew wide as she saw the furious Nohrian reach for her naginata, raise it high, and...

Shove it back into Oboro's arms. Belka brought Oboro's bruised face so close to her's that some of the lancer's blood stained the knight's cheeks. The rage in Belka's eyes had yet to subside.

''Try to backstab me on the battlefield again and I _will_ kill you, _Hoshidan_. Now help our comrades.''

Tossing the lancer to the ground and turning around, the bloodied knight recalled her wounded wyvern and remounted it. Soon, a fresh coat of flames redecorated the golem and an axe following. Oboro hadn't finished crying as she laid down hopelessly on the muddy plains, a sleeve trying to hide her shameful face from the sky. She was seethingly angry, absolutely humiliated by Belka. So much that she didn't know which one of them she wanted to kill. She allowed a trembling hand to graze her wounds, cuts given to her from the deepest corners of Belka's heart. Yet, it wasn't the fact that she had been assaulted that beset tears to her face, nor rage to her veins. What burned the most, hurt the most, was that every single thing Belka had said to her was true, leagues more legitimate than any threat or insult she had ever made to the knight. More importantly, it hurt because when she looked upon Belka's furious face earlier, visage twisted by resentment, it looked so much like her own reflection in Belka's eyes every time she had yelled at the knight.

'' _I HATE YOU!''_

The rain stole her tears as she charged the golem with all the fury in her body. They would be victorious that day, Takumi and the members of Oboro's platoon receiving recoverable injuries, but to the lancer, it felt like she had lost the battle for her life. She held her head low as they returned to the camp, the beating of a certain wyvern's wings audible no matter where it was.

* * *

She said nothing as a still furious knight glared at her from across the mess hall. She said nothing when Hinata attempted to point out that someone was following her. She said nothing as the woman had been always ten steps behind her after traversing half the camp. She said nothing as she entered her tent, only to have it quickly intruded. It was only when Belka grabbed her by the collar, hands trembling as she pinned her against a wall, did her tongue move, weak and bitter as it was pushed back by a menacing umber.

''...I hate you.''

''I've had enough of this.'' The knight's voice was less passionate than before, but still retained the same dread and displeasure. ''I've let you take me to an inch of my life, given you my head on a silver platter, go to bed ready for you to slit my throat while I sleep, but I will not tolerate you trying to kill me on the battlefield where my comrades have entrusted me with their lives. If I am backstabbed while lady Camilla or Luna believe me to have their back, I will take you down with me and carve my agony into your body before we die.''

The voice sounded so menacing, so absolute, yet Oboro felt no fear, only a dull anger in her core and despair in her limbs. She had not the strength to fight back.

''...I hate you.''

She felt the fabric constrict around her neck as Belka let out a frustrated scowl. Brown eyes squinted ruefully before a steady, heavy breath washed over her face. ''...I'm giving you one last chance, Oboro.''

Face deathly still, the knight removed both hands from Oboro's collar and reached for her boot, removing from inside a hidden dagger. It was devilishly sharp as it glistened in the lamplight. Calloused fingers pressed the hilt of the blade into Oboro's shaky hands.

''You have one last chance to kill me, one last chance to avenge your parents. If I'm not dead in the next ten seconds, I'll make sure you never get the opportunity again.''

Oboro felt her heart hammer against her ribs when Belka calmly guided the blade around her neck as if she was putting on a scarf. That mask of ice was unflinching.

''Kill me, Oboro.'' There was a brief pause in Belka's voice before she spoke again, tone greatly lowered. ''Kill the person who stole you parents from you, who made you so weak.''

Rage suddenly fuelled the lancer's veins. Her eyes burned fiery orange, hands flexed with murderous intent as the blade pushed harder against Belka's skin and the two locked eyes for potentially the last time. This was her final chance to be free.

 _...two, three..._

It would be so easy, just a quick swipe of her wrist and the source of her hatred would be gone. Her parents would be avenged and the dastard in front of her would finally be erased from her life for good, never to trouble her. She wanted to, she really wanted to.

 _...four, five..._

...If it was so easy, promised to be so satisfying, then why did her arms tremble so much? Why was Belka still alive to glare at her with those haunting, enrapturing eyes? Why couldn't she move?

 _...six, seven..._

Then she saw it, her vicious face once again reflected in Belka's eyes. She looked so crazed, ignorant, tragic, everything she believed associated with Belka, associated with the man who killed her parents. Her entire body shook like a twig, tears warning of their appearance.

 _...eight..._

Killing Belka would do nothing to appease her hate, she understood that now. She didn't hate Belka for being that man's daughter, nor for her faulty ideals as an assassin. She hated Belka because the woman was so beautiful, so kind, so human, where she had hated and hunted Nohrians her entire life with prejudice that thought otherwise.

 _...nine..._

Oboro was just as evil and naive as the man who killed her parents. The anger she felt was her way of denying it.

 _...ten...eleven, twelve..._

The dagger fell to the ground with a thud, soon joined by countless of Oboro's tears. The lancer sobbed pitifully into the knight's chest as desperate hands clamped onto broad shoulders. The hate was still there, begging to be released more than ever, but the crippling shame left her comatose and hurting. She lingered onto Belka's uncaring body, pathetically wishing that the Nohrian would grace her with another embrace, to feel that infuriating kindness one more time. But it never came, Oboro suffered alone. Broken and disgraced, she collapsed onto the ground, wallowing by herself. She wretched her face into her hands, attempting to disappear into the darkness of her palms.

''I hate you...I'm sorry, so sorry...I hate you...''

The body in front of her watched silently as the tears fell, before turning around and leaving as swiftly as she came, only a few cold, parting words left lingering in the air.

''Never speak to me again.''

And Belka was gone from her life, but not in the way the Hoshidan had planned. Her rueful flames would burn alone, not even her endless tears able to douse the pain. Belka's life would never be hers, the last chance had been lost with her weakness. She would never see the knight's blood coat her fingers, nor her tears coat Belka's neck. Whether or not she still wanted to kill the woman, having Belka's life leave her hands left agony on her palms, a hole within her chest, and she could only fill it with her anger.

* * *

The following weeks were a slow torture for Oboro. Belka had held onto her rage, not looking at her direction for even a moment when they crossed paths, while the Hoshidan had followed the knight's demand perfectly, biting her tongue until it bled when they were in the same room and running away at the earliest convenience. Oboro found herself training more than ever, countless new callouses blooming to her palms in but a few weeks as her bitter emotions pieced and slashed through practice dummies. What hurt more than the bruises was the fact that the rage was never sated in the slightest. No matter how hard she struck, or how loud she screamed, Belka's face still taunted and ripped at her heart.

''...Mother, father, I have shamed you.''

Fabric stretched between her gritted teeth as she curled herself up in bed, surrounded by countless blankets. Hinata, and even her beloved Takumi, had invited her to a night out in town earlier, but the lancer only gave a weak shake of her head before retiring to her tent. She wanted nothing more than to let her petty emotions burn her alive. She didn't want to feel anymore.

As she tussled about weakly upon the mattress, her thoughts inevitability turned to Belka. She couldn't remember a rest where the Nohrian's face hadn't popped into her head. In her rare glimpses at the woman, Oboro would see a very different look gracing her usually stoic face. When they weren't trying to avoid hers, they were always downcast and clouded, muscles always tense and flexing. Normally, she would have cursed herself for caring, but she had no pride left to wound. The pitiful sight made Oboro so angry, she wanted to strike her. It made her so sad, she wanted to embrace her.

''B-Belka...Bel-Belka!...''

She cried that name like she cried the name of her parents when they died, a weak, lonely, longing howl that could have made the sky shed tears. There so many things she wanted to say to her, so many things she wanted to know. Even if she had to swallow her words a thousand times or be so humiliated that she would drown in rage, she wanted to risk it, just to hear that voice directed at her again. But fear and shame held her back. Not fear for her life, but fear of disappointing Belka again. So, Oboro accepted that she would lose herself in the silken fabrics of her bed, desires unheard and forever left to fester in the furnace of her heart.

'' _You_!''

She nearly choked at the sudden sound coming from the entrance to her tent, sputtering as she tried her best to wipe the sorrow from her face before turning towards her intruder.

Oboro recognized the woman, a redheaded mercenary that was often seen in the company of Belka and Camilla. Her usual annoying look of superiority had been replaced by an accusing snarl as she shut the flap behind her and trudged over to the Hoshidan.

''W-What the hell are you doing here, _Nohrian_?!'' the lancer venomously yelled, even though her sore throat weakened some of the menace. ''I care not if our countries have an alliance. Don't think I won't kill you for intrud-''

''What did you do to Belka?!''

All the bravado vanished from her body at the sound of her name. Her throat suddenly felt very dry.

''I know about your little spats with her! I've seen the bruises, you brute!'' The lancer couldn't force any words out her parched throat, though she doubted she could've come up with any. ''She's not eating her dinner, she's always out training, she hardly talks to me anymore! It's driving me and lady Camilla crazy with worry! Tell me what you did!''

Oboro barely suppressed a shiver at those fiery eyes. Belka was hurting because of her? Was she alright? Why was Belka the one-

No, no, her mind would not entertain such weak thoughts in the company of a stranger. She forced her strongest facade to her face. ''Why, W-Why should I care what happens to that cur?! I despise her! She can suffer all her life for all I ca-''

Ruthless hands ripped Oboro out of her bed and against a wall. She could see trickles of moisture dampen the eyes glaring into her own. ''SHE ALMOST DIED YESTERDAY!''

Her facade lasted as quick as the blinking of her eye. None of the horrid emotions she felt around Belka compared the terrifying dread that gripped her heart at those words.

''We were just fighting bandits, they shouldn't have been a sweat for Belka!'' The expression on the mercenary's face was more sorrow than anger at this point. ''She wounded one, raised her axe to deal the finishing blow, w-when she just froze up! She wouldn't move, wouldn't speak, no matter how much I yelled! T-Then the bandit attacked, sliced right into her stomach, would have killed her if her wyvern didn't get him first!''

A fist hit Oboro's chest, but it carried no weight. Streams of red filled her vision as the mercenary struggled to stop her tears from falling onto the Hoshidan's lap.

''Help her, damn it... what did she ever do to you...''

The fingernails digging into her thighs had begun to draw blood, but it failed to register in Oboro's whirling mind. A thousand voices and emotions spoke out at once. Some spoke with anger, some spoke with pity, some spoke with insanity. All caused her chest to heave.

Wasn't this what she wanted, to avenge her parents' deaths?

'No! No, I don't want this!'

Why did it always anger and hurt to look at Belka then? If she disappeared, maybe the pain would stop.

'No, it would never stop! I'll hurt forever! She's hurting too!'

She deserves to suffer for what she did to you!

'No! I'm the one at fault! I twisted her kindness!

You two will never stop hating each other.

'Then I'll take on both our rage!'

''BELKA!''

Like a lightning bolt past the clouds, Oboro soared out of the mercenary's hold and out the door. Luna cried out behind her, but the words died on the wind, for the lancer's legs moved too fast. Oboro ran faster than she did her entire life, eyes wild and desperate as they searched every one of the wyvern knight's usual sulking spots. She cared not for shame, nor fear as her eyes begged to see a glimpse of sharp brown eyes and short, silken blue.

This truly was her last chance. If she didn't resolve her anger for Belka tonight, she was sure that her life would never know a moment's peace again. Whether or not Belka would despise her for it was up to fate.

The Hoshidan buzzed through the lightly crowded walkways of the evening camp grounds, not stopping when her friends asked where she was going or why she looked so distraught. By the time she had finally located the Nohrian, sulking underneath large tree at the fringes of the camp, the stars had begun to shimmer across a dark blue sky. There was a burning fire in her lungs and throat by then as well, but seeing that stoic visage again, feeling that trickle in her chest at Belka's umber eyes made her body move when there was no energy to be found.

The knight, whose eyes had been clouded with thought for half the afternoon, shook violently at the sound of breathless heaving and heavy steps crumple the grass behind her. Her face contorted in a savage snarl at the sight of the Hoshidan, standing up with muscles flexing. She had seen too much of Oboro in her thoughts today. She needed not a waking reminder.

''I thought I made myself clear, Hoshi-''

''SHUT UP!'' Oboro's voice cracked as she could feel the yell tear the inside of her throat. She didn't care if it chaffed. She was going to talk to Belka. ''You, you humiliate me by saying that I'm too easily swayed by my emotions! How PATHETIC it is that you almost get killed doing the same, Belka!''

The knight froze at the accusation, eyes growing wide before they quickly rumbled in rage. Oboro didn't even flinch as Belka stomped towards her.

''You have no words, right, Belka?! You were played like a puppet during a fight, like I against you!'' With every word, she saw the knight's chest rise with resentment. With every word, she felt bolder. ''You were too scared to cut down that bandit because of some past shame! What's more, you caused your partner and lady to worry themselves sick over you! How can you act so superior when you-'' Belka roared as she squeezed a hand around the lancer's throat. ''hurk...when y-you are so much like the person you berate?''

''How DARE you drag Luna and Camilla into this!'' The Nohrian's eyes were practically glowing with sheer hate. Oboro had but the tinniest of grimaces as rough fingers crushed down on her throat harder and harder. ''Never speak of them or my past again, or I will-''

''You'll WHAT?!'' The lancer's voice cried to the moon and beyond. It even surprised Belka enough to lessen the grip on her throat. ''You'll try to use me as an excuse again to cover up your regrets?!''

''HAah!...'' The knight looked like she had been pierced by a lance, rage instantly overtaken by shock. For the first time since they met each other, Oboro saw a full glimpse of the face behind Belka's frozen mask. The sharpness in those eyes slowly melted into emotion, the disks of umber almost growing bigger and brighter. Stoic cheek muscles relaxed and collapsed, making her mouth more natural, more feminine. She looked so beautiful.

Taking advantage of the dip in pressure on her throat, Oboro moved forwards and rested her weary head onto Belka's chest while her hands clutched desperately onto her shoulders. The Nohrian's muscles were just as tense as her own. ''...just like I've always used you?''

She confessed, indifferent to the gale of denial and anger that screamed from within her. Oboro would let the fire burn brighter and hotter, the storm blow harder and louder, no matter how much it hurt. She needed to speak her demons.

''I'm sorry, Belka...for all I've done...hah, please, pity me?''

Her tears broke like a dam down the pearl expense of Belka's chest the second Oboro felt familiar arms wrap around her, instead of pity, genuine comfort radiating from the contact. Somehow, this calmed the hate. If only for a moment, it made her feel at peace. Her sobs were only interrupted when she felt a small wetness on her neck, the arms holding her stiffening. Attempts to reach Belka's face were halted when the arms squeezed her tighter.

''Please, don't look.'' The breath sounded so gentle, so sweet against her nape. She could feel no hate towards that voice.

''...okay...''

They embraced each other in the cool, evening air, fireflies and swaying grass dancing to the tune of the the wind. Oboro cried loudly, her sobs barely muffled in Belka's collar, while the knight sniffled very occasionally, and very quietly, arms wrapping tighter each time.

Finally, when Oboro's legs could stand no more, they fell, backs against the tree trunk and thighs and shoulders against each others'. For a short, lovely moment, they sat in silence as they simply watched the stunning night sky in the other's company. Oboro let out a delighted shiver at the flirtatious bite of the evening wind, dotting her skin with goosebumps as it brought the smell of summer spice to her nose and Belka's soft breaths to her ear. She never would have imagined that the most peaceful she had ever felt in her life was with the Nohrian beside her.

''...You were smart not to look when I told you, Oboro.'' The knight suddenly sighed, causing the lancer's ears to perk. ''Else, I would have been the one to kill you.''

Oboro almost gasped in disbelief. She would have felt less shocked if the gods had appeared from the heavens and offered her candy.

''D-Did...D-Did you just make a joke?!''

Oboro felt a childish warmth replace the ire in her chest when she saw Belka's mask break once more, a rare and, for lack of a more prideful word, adorable blush tickle the the knight's cheeks. Scowling, the dreadfully embarrassed assassin turned her face away.

''N-No, it's... dark humour. I believe?...T-There's a difference.''

The first real laugh she made in Belka's company popped out of Oboro's lips, much to the irk of the Nohrian. It was tiny and light, a small giggle at best, but she felt like the weight had been lifted from her shoulders with that single breath.

''If you say so, Nohrian. A-And, once again, you have my apologies for some of the more...passionate things I've said to you.'' A light frown creased her lips as a small, but noticeable, bitter taste rose to her mouth. Despite her believing otherwise in the heat of the moment, Oboro wished to retain at least some of her pride in saying her feelings.

''I-I was just so angry and confused! You were not who I believed Nohrians to be, not what I believed the person behind your reputation to be. I didn't want to be wrong!'' Her tongue began to slip as a bit of frustration returned to her voice. ''Ahhh, I-I still haven't learned to fully tolerate you, but...I've accepted you, Belka, as well as my flaws. That... might be all I can offer right now.''

Sparkling umber eyes searched deep into Oboro's amber. It didn't take long for the knight to be satisfied with what she saw, her own eyes closing softly.

''Thank you. That's enough.''

Oboro hid an embarrassed grunt into her collar. They were much kinder words than she deserved, in light of all she'd done, all she'd felt. So much, in fact, that it stung her pride. Belka had accepted all of Oboro's sins with welcoming arms, yet the Hoshidan had been unable to do anything other than call out Belka's flaws. Perhaps, she could offer more.

''Belka? Would you... tell me more about your marks, a-at least the ones that fester the most?'' The squirming lancer's eyes cautiously rose to meet with Belka's, whose stirring announced her surprise. ''Maybe I could...help.''

Belka silently pondered the request as the lancer struggled to believe the words coming from her own mouth. There were times that the skeletons in her closet rattled too much for her to think straight, but she had repressed them for so long. She wasn't sure if she should give in and let them out. And yet, if a proud warrior such as Oboro could admit her faults, would she be insulting the Hoshidan if she didn't do the same? She couldn't deny that a part of her wanted someone to see past the blood, the sheltered, scarred soul beneath her hard exterior. She hadn't willingly removed her mask since the day the rival-, no, the day she killed her father.

''...Alright.'' The soft word was barely audible on the wind, but it snapped Oboro to attention like a firecracker. ''There are a lot of them, Oboro, and some of them weren't clean hits. Are you sure about this?''

The Hoshidan sat apprehensive for a while, but ultimately focused her features as Belka felt Oboro's shoulder move the slightest bit deeper into her own.

''I asked you didn't I?'' Her eyes glowed bright and bold, tone containing more determination than rage. ''Tell me them all.''

The assassin offered a quick nod before turning her eyes to the stars, her body reclining deeper into the hold of the bark. ''...Okay. Here's my list of sins.''

With a heavy heart, Belka laid her soul bare. The knight spoke of men begging for their lives, the look of horror in the eyes of soon to be widows. She spoke of angry tears as victims clung to her shirt, trinkets and messages some wanted to be given to next of kin. Cracks flickered more than ever in Belka's facade as lips grimaced while recollecting instances where her blade cut too deep, eyes squeezed shut as she recounted chilling last words. At each description, Oboro could feel the ire expending more and more in her chest, knuckles becoming white on more than one occasion. But, unlike their last discussion of Belka's past, the lancer stayed perfectly quiet. She knew what the assassin needed was a passive ear to take in her regrets, not accusations and more violence.

''...She was my youngest mark, couldn't have been too far past pubescence when I signed her death warrant.'' Oboro doubted the knight was aware, but Belka had been squeezing the lancer's thigh for the last three marks, face scrunched up as it desperately fought against the urge to break. Oboro made no move to stop it, however. She said she was going to bare the woman's rage, and she was going to do so. ''Her only crime was being King Garon's daughter, another victim of politics. Her room was filled with beautiful pictures and jars containing colours I never knew existed. I had the feeling that she wanted to be an artist.''

The Nohrian paused for a very long moment. The nails on Oboro's thigh squeezed well past the point of pain as streaks of agony creased Belka's pale face. Oboro's voice was calm nevertheless.

''Speak.''

A very hard, very forced, exhale was her response, the knight's tone laced with emotion. ''...I broke into her room at night to try and kill her in her sleep, but I found her up painting instead. So, I snuck up to her gently and readied my knife.'' She let out a humourless chuckle. ''Girl was so focused on her painting that she didn't even notice me until my hand was around her mouth and the blade in her neck...when I met her eyes, they looked so terrified...so much like Elise and Camilla's...''

A pressured fist slammed into the grass. Belka's eyes were clamped so tight, as if closing them would stop the images she saw in her mind. Now, it was Oboro's turn to feel pity.

''Everything you told me the day we sparred was true!'' The knight's tone was filled with self-loathing. ''My father's dictum did nothing to stop the guilt of my actions. It was nothing but an excuse, something to keep me sane so I could live my pathetic existence another day. When my target was someone I loved, I would make another excuse to justify my actions, or inactions in Camilla's case.''

Belka's haunted eyes glared at the lancer, the faintest whispers of tears shining in the moonlight. ''That's why I hated you as you hated me, why I was so persistent in you taking my life. I wanted to atone so badly for my sins. Maybe then the screaming would stop, maybe then would my death be peaceful.''

Belka's gaze faltered against her own, umber disks unable suppress a tremble. ''I hated you for seeing through me so easily. I hated you for reminding me so much of my past...and yet, I needed you to set me free.''

Words running dry, Belka finished her memoir of guilt, eye contact dying before hands cradled her head as she rested, drained and shameful. Oboro said no words of comfort in light, only staring while listening to the knight's laboured breathing. She felt no delight at seeing the woman suffer before her, only a strange pity, and quickly, a bubbling hate. The stories Belka told her were brutal, vile, and unfiltered. No matter how much tragic regret was laden in the voice that said it, the atrocities she had committed filled Oboro with a burning anger. Yet, unlike last time, her rage made no mark on her face nor body, the lancer unusually passive despite the storm building within her. Countless emotions were once again included, yet they were all dramatically amplified in presence, in touch, of Belka herself.

Her tongue leapt before she knew what she was saying, startling the Nohrian with a firm hand on her shoulder.

''Ten seconds. Give me one more chance, Belka.''

Surprise stretched brown eyes at the unprecedented request. Looking up, she was met with a burning determination in the Hoshidan's eyes that made Belka feel equal parts frightened and hopeful. Yet, at the same time, the fire in those sunset gems pulled her in like a moth to a flame. She, too, acted without thinking, the knife numbly pulled out of her boot and slowly placed into creamy hands. Her breath spoke softly, yet strongly, halfway a plea, halfway a demand.

''...Kill me, Oboro.''

The lancer didn't say a word, suddenly straddling Belka's hips, chest-to-chest. A small blush rose to pale cheeks, pink lips slightly parted, only to quickly close, but the assassin stayed motionless otherwise, staring deep into Oboro's unwavering eyes. The lancer was ready to release a lifetime of her rage.

 _...two, three..._

The knife was raised slowly to Belka's neck, the Nohrian barely suppressing a shiver as cold steel met her exposed neck. She gripped it tight.

 _...four, five..._

Oboro trailed a finger down Belka's neck, in union with the length of the blade. She could make out faint marks from the time she tried to strangle the soldier. It felt so distant.

 _...six, seven..._

She could feel Belka's breath on her face, as she was sure the knight could feel hers. It smelt of steel and copper, caressed her body with regret and longing, just like Belka did.

 _...eight..._

As she looked into those eyes, Oboro thought of her parents, of Belka's father. She felt no rage. She thought of all those insults, mud flung at her honour that the knight had made. She felt no hate.

 _...nine..._

Then, she stopped thinking and stared straight into those glistening, umber eyes. She felt it.

The knife was dropped onto the grass.

 _...ten..._

Oboro kissed her. Oboro kissed the daughter of her parents' murderer with such vigour, such passion, ten times more vivid than she ever thought about kissing Takumi. At first, shock widened Belka's eyes as she tried to pull away, but when she felt the kisses steal the anger, the longing, from her body, the knight was all too willing to relax and return the moans into Oboro's mouth. The world melted as they bathed in the intense pleasure of their taboo, their tongues flickering wildly like the flames of a bonfire. Oboro tried to ask herself if she was crazy, only to have it answered when the question was lost to the insanity. She pumped her raw hatred into the kiss, biting on Belka's lips to the point of bleeding, attacking her tongue for dominance, digging her nails into her skin, and accepted it as the knight did the same to her. It felt so unbelievably satisfying to release all her pent-up emotions and to take Belka's own, needing not to question her actions, only needing Belka.

''I hate you...'' she sighed between breaths, licking warm saliva and blood from Belka's lips.

''I know...'' The knight's tongue reached so deep into her mouth she felt it was touching her throat.

''...I love you...''

They opened their eyes at the same time, panting for breath while umber reflected against amber. Belka's eyes whispered unthinkable things as the knight stopped the kiss, yet keeping their faces at the same proximity.

''...Show me.''

* * *

Oboro woke first the next morning, groaning as her bruised body cried in protest. Stretching, the lancer clumsily rose from her silken covers, eyes creaking open to reveal the countless cuts and bruises littering her naked body. She gave them a quick glance over before her vision drifted beside her. There, an equally wounded, as well as equally naked, Belka lay, gently snoring into their shared blanket, more tranquil than other other time she had seen her.

''...By the gods, what is wrong with me?''

Massaging her temples, the Hoshidan fell back onto her pillow, blushing and grumbling. Last night had been the most ridiculous, painful, and pleasurable night of her life. Both she and Belka had quickly rushed back to her tent and ravaged each other with hunger befitting wild animals. They bit, cut, struck, pulled, slapped, snarled, pierced, and everything else imaginable to dispel their anger for each other and themselves. If anything, it definitely worked, since Oboro hadn't felt more refreshed in all her days, despite what her aching body told her.

''Argh, I'm a common pervert!'' she moaned, tussling around before her gaze fell over Belka once again, watching the knight's chest slowly rise and fall. ''...and it's all your fault...everything...''

The lancer let out a shaky breath as her hand lightly traversed the snow-white plains of Belka's skin. She wondered how she was supposed to feel about this. She had slept with the person she despised the most, moaned weakness and pleasure into her mouth and begged for more as she penetrated her body. Yet, it sated her anger so much more than simple violence, lifted months worth of pressure in the matter of hours. It seemed everything always came back to the frustrating Nohrian before her. Her blush turned a little brighter when her fingers danced across the valleys of Belka's nape, taking in their unusually soft texture before slowly descending lower towards her-

''I'm still sore there.''

The sudden voice made her scream, jumping backwards and nearly falling off the bed. Belka's stiffed a yawn with groggy eyes as she sat up and began to stretch her limbs, grunting a bit as she felt last night's wounds bite back.

''W-W-When did you awaken?!'' Oboro cried lucidly. She quickly covered her body with the blanket while the Nohrian was fine with stretching in her full glory.

''I was trained to wake up immediately following skin contact. I believe you were saying something about being a pervert and my role in it.''

Her cheeks were boiling at this point, all that rage she let loose suddenly popping back up. ''W-Wha- t-tell me if you are awake, Nohrian! Gods, t-this is why I despise you!''

''But I enjoy hearing you degrade yourself.'' Belka said almost playfully, barely flinching when a pillow was thrown at her face.

Stretches done, the Nohrian watched her silently, a somewhat amused expression shaping her face, before suddenly resting her head on Oboro's shoulder. The lancer nearly jumped again.

''...Thank you for last night, Oboro. You don't know how badly I needed that, all of it.''

Her muscles stiffened at the uncharacteristic contact and words. Even at something like this, she felt her anger slowly drain away. While she didn't shy away from the contact, she did at the words.

''I-It wasn't meant for your pleasure you know...a-and don't think this makes us a couple or anything! It...I-It's a mutually beneficial arrangement is all! You're getting your hopes up if you think I'm going to bare your children or rub your face like Kamui!''

''Whatever works for you.'' was the knight's plain and light-hearted answer, seemingly more interested in just using the lancer's shoulder. She wasn't sure if she should be pleased or annoyed at such a response.

''...But-'' The word suddenly popped from the Hoshidan's mind to tongue. The intimate thoughts that accompanied it burned at her face, but her heart felt compelled to let Belka know them. Her amber eyes drifted to the walls.

''...B-But, please, I want you to get over your past.'' The change she felt in Belka's body was instantaneous, muscles flashing rigid. Somehow, it spurred her on. ''I know stuff like that is hard to forget, but I'm telling you to stop blaming yourself. You are responsible for too many lives right now, too many people are worried about your well-being for you to be held back by your regrets.''

Oboro squeaked as she turned the tables on Belka, leaning on her shoulder and burying her chagrin into the knight's nape. She could feel her anger and passion pouring wildly into her words. ''So throw those useless thoughts away now, fool! Do not think I don't still despise you for them, but they'll do you no good on the battlefield! When we are old and you've become useless to me, I'll gladly remind you of every single one before I kill you!''

Her shameless body followed suit of her head, suddenly yearning for the knight's touch. Hands went to their place on familiar shoulders, her chest pushed tight against Belka's. ''But until then, stop blaming yourself for being a victim too, for living in the shadow of the man you were forced under. For some reason, it...hurts seeing you make such a miserable face.''

Oboro should have dug in her nails or bit into her skin, but she felt too weary, too comfortable. The fire in her chest still hadn't dissipated, but it burned gently right now. Not a consuming bonfire, but a gentle flame that warmed her heart more than it burned. She almost felt better for it. Perhaps one day that flame would burn more painfully than ever before. Perhaps one day it would be snuffed out all together, but for now, Belka sated her hate, as well as brought an all too pleasant feeling that she desperately wanted to hold onto, no matter the consequences nor how immoral.

''...I hate you, Belka...'' Her words were clear and true as a summer sky, vast and passionate like the harvest moon as she lost herself in Belka's touch. It was easier this way, just to lose herself.

Belka felt the warmth violently pumped into her, and wasted no time in returning it with a soft embrace. The knight needed this. To be hated. To be loved. To lose her mind. Just like Oboro needed it. As the lancer found a gentle rhythm of breathing into her chest, Belka gave a rare, honest smile as she closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of indigo hair that raced past her vision like the endless plains of Hoshido.

''...I hate you, too, Oboro.''


End file.
